Pain!
The gem on the last zombiefly was now flickering and dull; whatever magic was left in there must have been not enough to keep it flying, because it clattered to the roof, too, and started slowly scuttling towards me. I was too busy gasping out a ward spell — the kind that gets powered by your own life force when you run out of the ordinary kind of magic, which should tell you how messed up my body was right then — to do much else, but it’s not like witty banter works on the undead. It was there to finish its task, and the obnoxious thing was that this was all I was to the thing: a task. You want your death to mean something to whoever’s killing you, right? Even if it’s just, Gods but I hate the smirk on your face.
You have to hand it to whichever enchanter put it together. Though: that zombiefly kept fighting even after a dagger smacked into the back of what I suppose we could call its ‘neck.’ Not for long, but the damned thing must have had some kind of final strike spell, because it used up the last of its gem’s energy to do a leaping attack, right at my throat.